SÉAMUS AHEARNE: GOD IS IN THE BITS AND PIECES OF THE EVERYDAY. 

EGRETS AND MAN U:

The Dutch man was very happy this morning. I met him as I walked back from the beach. He was happy for Erik ten Hag. (I even liked how he pronounced the name). Man United had beaten City. He hadn’t much time for the Arab-funded City. I walked on. A man was fishing. He had caught a Dourada. He asked me where I came from. He said that he was posh. He had come from Pearse Street, Dublin, and had graduated to Ballyfermot. I told him that I could improve on that one with Finglas. I had been to the sea. The only footprints there were mine. The waves did the talking. The rhythms. The waves came in noisily. Then they paused, as if taking a breath, waiting for an encore in praise. The sand spoke of a long history. The gentle breeze was whispering. The sun quietly began to spread its heat and smile across my chair. The little birds were playing a game. They ran out after the waves and ran in from them, while looking for their breakfast. I had a guard of honour on the way down – the egrets. They didn’t do it willingly or intentionally. In fact, they seemed aggrieved that I should intrude on their morning. I did like the waders or were they black-necked stilts? I don’t know. They warned off the family as I appeared. I felt that there was room for us all!

TONY O’REILLY’S FUNERAL: 

I looked in on the funeral in Donnybrook and only saw the Eulogies part. His sons spoke well and at length. I hope it doesn’t set an example. Tony’s colourful life was painted for a Retrospective exhibition in the Gallery of his story. It was extraordinary that names were mentioned. So many. Is it ever possible to get names right? Can it ever be right? The listing went on forever. Who is left out? But then something of Tony came out in the genes – in his sons. They didn’t seem to care. They said what they felt was important. And they did it eloquently. However, it was lovely to hear of the three women in his life. His mother and his two wives. Beautiful portraits of these women were hung in the Gallery. 

EUCHARIST ON THE BEACH: 

On Trinity Sunday, Andrei Rublev’s Icon comes to mind. Not the cold and clinical ‘Three in One’ efforts of the past. Not the mystery element. Not the lumpy preface. But the Table. The welcome. The space for everyone. Hospitality. We will be at the beach later for the Eucharist. The beach. The world. Will be the altar. The sea will be the reminder of mystery. The bread will be the company of our years. The wine will be the celebration of fruitfulness. The presence will be the beauty and wonder and miracle of our history; of our present location; of the people in our lives; in what God has done and is doing in our lives. We will minimise the Scriptures! And let God speak. We won’t be jumping up and down which is such a distraction in Church and treats people as if they were on a military parade. The local flowers will ask us to be aware of the smiling sacrament of nature. The song will be of the ocean reminding us of how little we are. 

REFLECTING ON TEILHARD DE CHARDIN: 

On Trinity weekend: ‘Twelve Sheep’ by  John Connell;  ‘A Memoir’ by John F Deane. The documentary on Teilhard de Chardin. This has been part of my celebration these past few days. These three have coalesced for me like Rublev’s Table. I watched Teilhard de Chardin. It was very special. I watched in company and in awe. During the watching, a name  was mentioned (J Hackett). What would he think of it? By a very strange coincidence,  Jerry had also watched. Shortly afterwards a word comes through. He  wrote to me from the US. He  compared de Chardin to  his own work on Roger Bacon. Bacon was a type of Teilhard in times past. A medieval de Chardin! Jerry had even visited Teilhard’s grave in New York, Hudson River. He also mentioned Garrigou-Lagrange  from the Auvergne area in France, who was rather critical of de Chardin and rather too well connected with the then Holy Office. Karol Wojtyla was a doctoral student of his. 

And there is more. But that is enough. 

JOHN F DEANE’S ODYSSEY: 

John F Deane’s memoir is intriguing. It is a seriously concentrated book. It is intense. It demands patience and time. His story is very recognisable. About life in Ireland on Achill Island. About school life. About education. About entering Religious life. About the Church. About the foolishness of much of our received wisdom. In school. In culture. In theology. There was a narrowness in much of what we did and what was seen to be important. I never believe in hurling blame or criticism at the past, but there is a need to learn. Deane retains and remains a man of God and Faith. One breakthrough moment for him was meeting with the words of Teilhard. Music. Poetry. Nature. Laudato Si. All clamour for attention and delight in John’s life. He knows that this was what he pined for all his days. He quotes Wordsworth: ‘There was a time when meadow, grove and stream…. To me did seem/ apparelled in celestial light/ the glory and the freshness of a dream.’  

MY TWELVE LADIES:

The Twelve Sheep by John Connell completes the Trinity. This man from Longford had wandered the world not quite knowing what he was searching for. He came home. To himself. To his twelve sheep. His twelve ladies. The pregnancies. The lambing. All became part of his discovery of life and self. His words are light and unexpected. His sense of the spirit. His sense of wonder. His sense of nature. His reflection are very special. ‘That they may face the rising sun comes to mind.’ (John McGahern). 

The local is universal. The simplicity of rearing the sheep leads to the bigger questions of life. His words are a delight. Like de Chardin and like Deane, God is sprinkled everywhere. Nature speaks. The animals speak. (He had written about the Cow previously). Home speaks. The family history speaks. Even the death of a lamb speaks. ‘Anguish’ by August Friedrich Schenck speaks loudly. A dead lamb with the mother, surrounded by a murder of crows. Not quite Edvard Munch’s The Scream but very similar. His book is again so attuned to a Teilhard story. To a John F Deane story. To a Pope Francis story. To an awakening story of what life, faith, God, education might be. We are all blessed in the company of de Chardin; of John F Deane; of John Connell. It is humbling and wonderful. I think that is what priesthood has to be about. The Good News of life. The pains in living. The wonder of nature. The listening daily and humbly. 

Seamus Ahearne OSA 

Trinity Sunday 2024